


how could i live without knowing you?

by antijosh



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grey's Anatomy Fusion, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Canon Compliant, In the end, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-06 12:03:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14056605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antijosh/pseuds/antijosh
Summary: in which jae always leaves and younghyun can't stop waiting.





	how could i live without knowing you?

**Author's Note:**

> warning: this contains a greys/medical au and im not a medical professional so while i tried to avoid glaring errors, there are likely inaccuracies. this is also reincarnation au so there is some character death, but no one is permanently gone. 
> 
> bc i didn't want to make historical, time is sort of wonky and fluid here, with the contents of this fic taking place in the 20th and 21st centuries. hopefully that isn't a problem~
> 
> italics at the beginning adapted from the text in the boyz's "walking in time" mv, which is what inspired this mess in the first place. 
> 
> special thanks to jackie, yana, and matt for their encouragement/ass kicking. i needed it.

_Last goodbyes chase first hellos; we’ll meet again, I’m sure. But in the meantime, I guess I’ll be walking in time._

+

It takes a few lives, but eventually Younghyun figures out how to remember. It takes a few more for him to realize that he’s the only one who can. 

He can’t remember between lives like he can remember within the same life. Memories between lives are like looking at the world above from underwater—more waves of deja vu, flashes of blurry images, or sudden washes of emotion than anything else. Certain lives are easier to remember than others, but Younghyun can’t always tell which life came first. Not that it matters. He’s the only one that knows there’s multiple lives to live anyway. 

It’s hard to enjoy life when you feel like you’ve already lived too much.

+

Younghyun’s sixteen, practically a baby living in Long Beach when he meets _him_ for the first time. (The first of many, many times, though Younghyun doesn’t know it yet.)

There’s this record shop, not too far from the beach, where Younghyun spends most of his time. Most days he doesn’t buy anything, just goes to feel the records under his fingertips, enjoy the atmosphere and the familiar scratchy notes that fill every corner of the high-ceilinged room. 

It’s a particularly hot summer afternoon, Younghyun’s short black hair sticking to his nape with sweat. For once, he’s glad his mom won’t let him grow out his hair like all the guys on album covers, or he’d be even more uncomfortable. The bell on the door gives a pleasant jingle when he walks in, and Younghyun immediately feel his mood brighten when he catches sight of the deep red walls and sporadic fake plants decorating the place. 

Younghyun’s about to start his usual routine of perusing the aisles one by one when his eyes flit over to the counter, almost absentmindedly. He’s expecting to see Bernard working there as usual, but instead there’s a new face. Fluffy black hair and thick glasses obscure most of it, but Younghyun’s eye catches on the boy’s high cheekbones and heart shaped mouth.

 _Jae_ , his name tag reads. 

It only takes one look for him to _know_. Younghyun would live a thousand lives if it would bring him back to Jae. 

In this life, though. 

He scrapes up some money, scrounges coins from beneath couch cushions just so he can buy a few records, trying to get a decent opportunity to talk to Jae. In the end though, it’s Jae that talks first.

“This is really good,” he remarks as he bags up Younghyun’s Pink Floyd vinyl. “Have you checked out the new Led Zeppelin record yet? It’s dope.” 

“Not yet.” Younghyun’s voice catches in an embarrassing stutter, but Jae just smiles back at him over the counter so bright Younghyun thinks he might go blind. 

“You should give it a try when you come back tomorrow.” It’s teasing, but in a gentle sort of way that makes Younghyun’s stomach flutter.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do that.” Younghyun bites his lip at his own awkwardness, but Jae never stops smiling. 

Summer winds down all too quickly, leaving Younghyun to cram as many visits as he can into the few remaining weeks. Jae always seems happy to see him, greeting Younghyun with a smile and a music recommendation. It’s a comfortable routine that they have, one Younghyun feels guilty for breaking when he has to go back to school and abandon the record shop for a few weeks. Finally, when the semester is off to a solid start and his mom finally lets him out of the house again, he wanders back, seeking the now-familiar comfort of the red walls and Jae’s smile.

Instead, he’s greeted by the same soft jingle of the bell and Bernard glaring up in annoyance. 

“Where’s Jae?” Younghyun blurts, not even bothering with a greeting. Bernard rolls his eyes, unsurprised.

“Nice to know you missed me. He was a temporary hire while I was in Korea for the summer, now he’s back at college.” Bernard barely spares Younghyun a glance before turning back to the comic book in his lap.

“College?” The word leaves a sour taste in Younghyun’s mouth. Bernard looks up again, nodding.

“Somewhere upstate. Hey, if you’re gonna keep hanging out here make sure you buy something from time to time, okay? I don’t want my manager to kick you out or anything.”

“No worries.” Younghyun’s not sure why he’s so upset, so torn at the loss of someone he hadn’t really known, had only spoken to a handful of times, but it only serves to cement the idea in his mind that Jae is important to him. “I’ll see you later, Bernard.” With that, Younghyun rushes back out, not bothering to wait for Bernard’s response. As his feet cross the threshold, Younghyun makes a vow: he’ll find Jae again. If not in this life then in the next, and if not in that life then in the one after. No matter what, he’ll find Jae again. He has to. 

+

Minutes pass like decades now that Younghyun’s got someone to wait for. _Actual_ decades seem almost unbearable, made only just so by the fact that he at least has something to look forward to. He refuses to believe that the universe would be so cruel as to send him this love of all his lives and take him away so quickly.

Details of past lives are hard for him to remember now, but Younghyun could never forget Jae’s face. Even if he did, he has this dream.

He’s walking on a beach—maybe one in California, he’s not sure—the morning sun’s rays just starting to peek out from beneath the waves. The sand is soft beneath his soles, until he steps forward and hears a loud crack. He looks down to see his own blood staining the white surface of a shell pink. 

“Are you okay?” It’s a voice he could recognize anywhere, low and sweet like it was made for his ears to hear. 

Younghyun looks up—windblown, bleach blonde hair obscures part of _his_ face, but the heart shaped mouth is the same. He knows, and would know even without looking, that it’s Jae.

“Yeah,” he answers. “I’ve been waiting for you. What took you so long?”

“Sorry.” Jae cracks a smile. “Traffic was shit.”

Younghyun laughs at that, taking one last look down at his bleeding foot. Now though, the shell is gone, and so is his blood that stained the sand. When he looks up again, Jae’s gone too. Once again, he’s alone. The sun breaks through the waves, and Younghyun wakes.

He can never quite manage to shake the lingering emptiness that always follows. 

+

Some people are meant to be together. Sometimes, being with the person you’re meant for doesn’t mean _being_ with them. Younghyun learns this the hard way. 

He’s back at college, because no matter how hard he tries he can’t remember things like education and has to go through it again, every time. He doesn’t know if it’s by chance or kairos or the way of the universe, but when he logs in to look at his class list he sees “Jae Park” only a few spaces below his own “Brian Kang”. His heart skips, and then settles with a wash of determination. This time, he thinks. This time he’ll be braver. This time he’ll get it right. 

When he finally sees Jae, Younghyun feels like his heart is going to beat straight out of his chest. Jae's forgone glasses and his hair is short and pushed up off his forehead, giving Younghyun a good look at his face for the first time in, well, ever. It takes conscious effort for Younghyun to tear his eyes away and find a seat, two places down from Jae. 

As much as he'd hate to admit it, Younghyun's like a schoolboy with a crush. Even the mention of Jae's name sends him reeling, and he spends the first class trying to work up the courage to introduce himself. He has a script in mind—he'll make a joke about finding another Korean American and Jae will laugh and they'll trade numbers and become best friends before Younghyun finally confesses his feelings for Jae. Or something like that. He hasn't really thought about it that much. 

Once again though, Jae beats him to the punch (Younghyun isn't all that surprised). It's the second day of class and Younghyun is actively trying to not stare at Jae's profile when he feels a tap on his shoulder. Jae's leaned his long torso over the gap between them and is fixing Younghyun with the brightest smile he's ever seen, in any of his lives. 

"Hey," he says, "Do you have a pencil I can borrow?" 

If Younghyun wasn't already in love, he would've fallen right then. 

"Yeah," Younghyun replies, pulling an extra pencil from his bag (which just makes Jae's smile widen). 

"Thanks," Jae accepts it, withdrawing back to his seat. Then, leaning over again, "I'm Jae by the way." 

"Nice to meet you, I'm Younghyun." 

"Korean?" 

"Yeah. You?" 

"Yup." 

And just like that, they're friends. Or so Jae declares on the fourth day of class when he demands he get Younghyun's number so they can eat lunch together and complain about their professor and the trials and tribulations of being Korean American in today's society. 

Jae’s loud and bright and everything Younghyun’s been missing in his existence since Long Beach; a lighthouse leading Younghyun home after years of being lost at sea. Younghyun doesn’t pretend for a second that he’s not in love with Jae—it would be foolish, really. He’s working up the nerve, trying to find the right moment to confess so it won’t be weird, or unexpected, or unwanted. He almost has it, and then. 

Then he meets Jae’s boyfriend.

It hurts, at first. Seeing Jae absentmindedly throw an arm over Wonpil’s shoulder, making an offhand comment about how nice Wonpil looked today before immediately resuming his conversation with Younghyun about the perks of holding a pick in one’s mouth as opposed to the fingers—that felt like someone had reached into Younghyun’s gut and taken something integral, something he can’t live without. The worst part of it all is that Wonpil is a genuinely nice guy, sweet to a fault with a killer smile and an uncanny ability to make Jae laugh. Younghyun knows he doesn’t stand a chance. In this life, he’s still little more than a stranger.

He becomes numb, after a while. Somewhere along the way, it stops hurting quite so much to see them together, and the throb in his chest turns into a dull ache—sharpening again only at the sight of a ring on Wonpil’s finger, a few months after Jae’s graduation. Younghyun tries to convince himself that he’s just hurt Jae didn’t tell him that he was going to propose, but it’s a failed effort. 

“Finally convinced him to settle down, huh?” he jokes when Wonpil shows him, but it falls flat. Jae’s not around—out practicing for a gig he’s playing with another one of their friends—so it’s just Wonpil and Younghyun crammed into a tiny booth at a coffee house not too far from Younghyun’s apartment.

“Something like that,” Wonpil replies. He clears his throat, and then. “Younghyun.”

“Mhm?”

“Jae’s going to ask you to be his best man.”

“Of course,” Younghyun snorts. “He doesn’t exactly have a ton of options.”

“I just mean,” Wonpil starts, but he pauses, pressing his lips together before continuing, carefully. “I know how you feel about him. I have since we first met. If it’s too much for you—I’ll help you get out of it. If you want. That’s all I’m saying.”

Younghyun considers denying it, but finds it futile. Wonpil looks at him and it’s so painfully obvious that he knows, so Younghyun doesn’t even bother. He coughs awkwardly, straightening his spine from where he’d been comfortably hunched over the table.

“I’ll be fine.” The words sound like a lie, even to him. Wonpil hears it too, mouth once again forming a thin line as he nods. A beat of silence, then two. Younghyun taps a shaky rhythm against the bottom of the table, letting his fingernail scrape the rough surface so he has something to focus on besides the awkwardness between them. 

“I know I’m probably not who you want to hear this from but. If you ever need anything, let me know.” The stilted delivery tells Younghyun that Wonpil knows Younghyun won’t ever ask for anything from him. Younghyun thinks it’s good that they have that unspoken understanding.

The wedding comes and goes in a blur that Younghyun barely registers (or maybe he just did a really good job of blocking it out). And if he tries to fill the hole in his gut with copious amounts of alcohol and more than a few one night stands, then at least Jae doesn’t call him out on it. 

They grow apart, eventually. Younghyun graduates, moves away, and lets his life go on without Jae in it. He keeps that dull ache hidden, tucked safely away in a corner of his heart that no one else ever sees. _Next time_ , he promises himself. _I’ll get there sooner next time_. 

+

_Step, crack, blood._

_Are you okay?_

_Yeah. What took you so long?_

_I’m sorry._

_Me too._

+

Younghyun taps a steady three-beat rhythm on the side of his couch, brows scrunching together as he tries to skim through his mass of unread emails in search of anything important. Finding nothing, he switches to texts, raking his mind for the source of the uneasy feeling that he’s forgotten something terribly important.

(Somewhere, across the city, Jae waits in a coffee shop for a blind date that never shows up. He watches the clock tick thirty minutes before he stands, leaving a few bills on the table to pay for the black coffee that’s gone cold and shooting a text to Sungjin on his way out the door about how this was a terrible idea and he’s never doing it again.)

That night, Younghyun’s sleep is oddly dreamless.

+

Years turn into lives, and Jae is nowhere to be found; Younghyun has to push down the nagging thought that he’ll never get another chance. 

He fills the Jae-shaped space with work—Younghyun’s a top surgical resident in Toronto, has been since he started the program. It’s a good life, and he’s happy. Happy enough.

(Happy until.)

“Do I really have to wear this? I’m more of a streetwear kinda guy, you know?” Younghyun’s throat closes and steps falter at the sound of _his_ voice. Everyone else crosses into the patient room without Younghyun, leaving Younghyun to get sidestepped by an annoyed looking nurse. "You'll have your hands full with this one," she says, but Younghyun isn't listening. 

There, on the patient bed, is Jae, long fingers tugging at the collar of his hospital gown and mouth downturned at the corners in a pout. The rest of the residents have already formed a neat semicircle around the bed and Younghyun finally forces his feet to move again, dread building low in his stomach as he crosses the threshold. 

“Last in the room can present,” the attending, Dr. Park, announces, and Younghyun takes the chart from where it sits at the end of the bed. He clears his throat, careful to keeps his eyes trained on the paper and not the patient.

“Jaehyung Park, 26, here for removal of an adrenal tumor as a result of Von Hippel-Lindau syndrome.”

"How long is that gonna take, by the way?" Jae interrupts, extending a hand that brushes dangerously close to the chart Younghyun is holding. "Cause, like, I've got a show to play soon and I've spent about a year of my life in and out of this shit hole, so I don't wanna waste any more time here than I have to." 

Dr. Wonpil Kim, eager to show off how much he's been studying the procedure in hopes of being first assist, jumps into an explanation, leaving Younghyun to stare in peace. The lump in his throat only continues to grow the longer he looks at Jae—Jaehyung belongs in the California sun, bright midday light reflecting off his bleach blonde hair. He's not supposed to be here, in a city that rarely sees the sun, surrounded by pale hospital sheets and blank, unwelcoming walls.

Younghyun lingers a little too long, making sure he’s the last to filter out of Jae’s room—as much as it pains him to see Jae here, it’s been so long that Younghyun doesn’t want to leave his side. Unfortunately, though, rounds don’t stop because Jae’s here, so he’s moving on to the next room all too soon, sparing one last glance at Jae before he’s out of sight.

Much to Wonpil’s delight, he’s chosen as first assist on Jae’s procedure, scheduled two days from now. He takes the lead on all the pre-op care, leaving Younghyun to hover awkwardly or excuse himself to the ER where he can’t feel Jae’s eyes on him. He’s sure Jae’s noticed that he’s the only doctor acting weird, but Younghyun can’t exactly explain that he’s been in love with Jae for decades even though, for Jae, they only just met. 

The avoiding works, for a while. Then there’s a mass casualty, and Wonpil is called to Dr. Park’s side. 

"Round on all my post ops," the attending says, shoving a stack of charts into Younghyun's hands before jogging down the hall towards the ER, Wonpil right behind him. Younghyun grimaces. Facing Jae one on one is pretty low on the list of things he wants to do today.

Younghyun saves Jae's room for last, because he's masochistic like that. Jae's awake when Younghyun enters, face half hidden by a book and glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. 

"Good morning, Mr. Park—" Younghyun starts, but Jae interrupts him. 

"Call me Jae," he says, nose wrinkling. "Mr. Park makes me sound old." 

"Jae, then." Younghyun gives him a closed mouth smile, clutching onto the chart in his hands until he's sure his knuckles are turning white. Hesitantly, he takes a step closer to the bed. "I'm here to check on you. How's your pain today?" 

Jae shrugs, letting his book fall closed in his lap. "'s fine, I guess. A five out of ten maybe? But the nurses have told me my pain scale is whack, so."

“I can up your meds some to make you a little more comfortable,” Younghyun offers, and Jae seems to accept with a wordless nod. “I need to examine your incision site now.”

“Don’t worry, I know how it goes,” Jae says, setting his book on the bedside table before leaning back against his mountain of pillows. “I had my first tumor out when I was ten so just go for it.” 

“Ten, huh?” Younghyun asks, trying to distract both Jae and himself. He can’t get over how _wrong_ this feels, to touch Jae with gloved hands, all cold and impersonal. Younghyun’s never gotten used to this—the initial distance, the uneasiness that rests between them because he’s been in love with Jae all this time and yet. Jae has no idea who he is.

Jae just hums in response to his question, but then his brow furrows. “But you knew that right? I'm sure all that shit's in my chart." 

"Talking to the patient can be just as useful as a chart with their medical history, that's just good medicine." Younghyun shrugs. "But maybe that's just my opinion." 

The corner of Jae's mouth quirks up in the ghost of a smile. "And here I was thinking you were talking to me because I'm devastatingly handsome." Younghyun feels his cheeks flush as he tugs Jae’s gown back down to cover his stomach, and Jae's face splits into an actual grin. “Are you gonna be coming back? Cause if you’re my new doctor, I feel like I should know your name.”

“It’s Dr. Kang,” Younghyun replies, clearing his throat awkwardly as he steps away from the bed.

“Well then, Dr. Kang, you probably have some pull here, right? Think you can get me some pizza or something? I’m getting really tired of lime flavored jello.” Jae’s face is bright and happy and so very _Jae_ that Younghyun can’t help but smile—that’s something Jae’s always been able to make him do, no matter where they are or what life they’re in. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” he replies, and he leaves with Jae still smiling. 

Over the next week, Younghyun learns two very important things about Jae: he likes playing the guitar more than he likes pizza, and he _really_ likes pizza. Younghyun’s not even sure who brought an acoustic guitar into Jae’s hospital room to begin with, but he’s not complaining. Jae’s _good_ , and he has the pretty voice to go with it that has every nurse on the floor swarming around his room as soon as he even starts tuning the damn thing. Younghyun can’t really say anything though, because he does the same. 

Sometimes, Younghyun spends a little extra time on rounds in Jae's hallway. He doesn't even have to be in Jae's room in particularly—he can hear the guitar chords and Jae's sweet voice from nearly anywhere on the floor. 

(But then, when his shift ends, he goes and sits. Sometimes outside the door, sometimes inside, if Jae feels up to having company. He sings too—only Jae can get him to do that. "You have a nice voice," Jae tells him, and Younghyun chokes up. Somehow, he knows. This is important.)

“If you like it so much, you should learn to play,” Jae jokes one day, shoving the guitar in Younghyun’s direction. “Hopefully I won’t be here forever, you’ll have to provide your own musical entertainment.”

Younghyun grimaces at the reminder. Jae’s been kept longer than expected for observation until a small post-op infection clears up, and Younghyun’s starting to dread the day he’ll be discharged. “I’ll learn to play when you are tumor free and I never have to see your sorry face again,” Younghyun jokes. (They’re comfortable now. Jae knows Younghyun’s first name and calls him a loser for eating lunch in a patient room instead of with all his “doctor friends.” Younghyun calls him insufferable, and they laugh. It’s nice.)

“Seriously though, promise me you’ll learn to play? You’ve got surgeon fingers, you’ll be a natural,” Jae prods.

“Fine, I promise I’ll learn to play when you leave and start your career as a superstar,” Younghyun replies, teasing. Jae snorts, something that really shouldn’t be that cute.

“You say that like I’m not already a superstar.”

“I must be your biggest fan then.”

“For now, but nurse Jamie is giving you a run for your money.” Jae’s eyes shine with mirth, and now it’s Younghyun’s turn to snort.

“Nurse Jamie can’t stand you.”

“Hey, don’t you have to swear you won’t harm your patients? This is a violation.”

(Younghyun can’t help but think about how much he’s going to miss this.)

Jae’s infection clears and he’s discharged less than a week later, and Younghyun avoids his floor that whole day. He’ll miss Jae, but he can’t help but hope that they won’t meet again—at least, not here. 

It’s foolish to hope, though, because only a month passes before Wonpil is sliding a chart across the floor to where Younghyun is sitting, attempting to nap after a long surgery.

“He’s back,” is all Wonpil says. “He’s back and it doesn’t look good.”

Younghyun’s on his feet in seconds, chart in hand so he can read as he rushes to find Jae’s room. When he arrives, breathless, Jae looks up like he’s been waiting for Younghyun.

“You read it yet?” he asks, voice steady as his eyes flit to the chart in Younghyun’s hands.

“How long?” Younghyun asks, breathless.

“Since before I got discharged the last time. I didn’t want to say anything that would keep me in here.”

“Jesus, Jae.” Younghyun sets the chart down, sinking into a chair with a sigh. “Things like this, tremors—they only get worse.”

“I can’t play anymore,” Jae replies, head jerking in the direction of a familiar acoustic guitar, propped up in the corner. “That’s why I came in again. None of this shit is worth it if I can’t play.”

Younghyun nods, because it makes perfect sense—it’s so quintessentially _Jae_ that he can’t even be frustrated. “I’m gonna go take a look at your scans, ok? I’ll be back.”

“Take your time, I’m not going anywhere,” Jae grumbles, but Younghyun’s already halfway out of the room.

It’s not good—Jae’s hand tremor is due to a small but dangerously placed tumor that kind of makes Younghyun want to cry when he sees it. He takes a deep breath, and steadies himself. It’s bad, but it’s not a death sentence.

“Dr. Kang,” Dr. Park acknowledges Younghyun as he walks into the viewing room, Wonpil at his side. “Are these Mr. Park’s scans?”

Younghyun nods wordlessly, stepping back to allow the attending to look. Dr. Park asks them a few questions about Jae’s medical history and symptoms, checking the chart Wonpil hands him against the scans.

“I’ll recommend physical therapy for the tremor, but this isn’t surgical.” Younghyun barely manages to keep his mouth closed.

“Wouldn’t it be better for the patient to attempt resection?” Wonpil asks, and Dr. Park shakes his head. 

“It’ll be too risky. Better to have him alive with a tremor than dead without one.”

“All due respect, sir, I don’t think that’s the best course of treatment,” Younghyun jumps in. Dr. Park turns, eyebrows raised. He doesn’t say anything, so Younghyun continues. “The patient loves to play guitar. Surgery would greatly improve his quality of life, and I’m sure if you ask him he’ll accept any of the risks. He’s been through this before.”

“Be that as it may, I’m not going in surgically. The tremor isn’t life threatening but the surgery is, end of discussion, Now, come with me to inform the patient,” Dr. Park says, motioning to Wonpil. When Younghyun goes to follow, he’s stopped. “Not you. You’re off the case, Kang.” Dr. Park’s voice is cold, cutting. 

“Dr. Park,” Younghyun tries to protest, “please, I know the patient, I’ve seen him through all his treatment here—”

“That’s the problem, Dr. Kang. You’re too close it’s making you unobjective. I don’t want you anywhere near this case, do you understand?”

There’s no room for argument. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now go find some scut to do until I decide where I want you.”

“Yes sir.”

Wonpil's a good friend—he lets Younghyun know when Jae's been discharged a day later, so Younghyun doesn't spend all his time looking, hoping to catch Jae coming around a corner or run into him getting on the elevator. 

"He asked about you, you know," Wonpil tells him one day at lunch as they eat crap french fries that Jae would've cried over. "Before he left. Wanted to know if you got fired or something." 

"What'd you tell him?" Younghyun asks, and Wonpil responds with a shrug. 

"The truth. He didn't seem hurt or anything. Just said he wished you'd come by to tell him yourself." 

And that—knowing that hurts Younghyun more than anything else.

Another month without Jae is hard—Younghyun has to work himself half to death just to keep from thinking about him all the time. Wonpil notices and does his best to help, but at some point he gives up, turning to quiet avoidance. Younghyun isn’t bothered by it. 

Younghyun’s about to head home for the day, scrub cap still in hand as his feet drag their way to the elevator. He’s bone tired, but there are charts waiting to be signed behind the E.R. nurses station and he can’t exactly neglect them. All he wants is a quiet exit, but as soon as the elevator doors chime open, there’s chaos. 

Younghyun barely has time to step out of the way before there’s doctors and nurses rushing past him, all heading for one patient being wheeled through the E.R. with Wonpil kneeling over him, performing CPR. 

“Need more hands?” Younghyun calls out. There’s nothing like a big, bloody case to wake him up again.

“You can’t help with this one, Kang.” Wonpil’s voice is high and tense, and when he looks up at Younghyun there’s an unspoken _I’m sorry_. 

Younghyun takes a sharp breath in; a nurse moves, and it gets stuck in his throat. There’s no mistaking that familiar head of bleach blonde hair. 

“Dr. Kim—” he starts, but Wonpil’s already shaking his head.

“We’re going up now, we’re gonna take care of him.” Someone’s yelling orders and then Wonpil and Jae are getting wheeled on to the elevator, leaving Younghyun to watch as the doors close and silence falls. 

(After, it occurs to Younghyun that Wonpil spoke to him like they speak to the families.)

He can’t leave, after that, but he’s useless to the nurses so Younghyun let his feet carry him almost mindlessly up to the OR hallway, to the galleries. Jae’s not in an OR with a gallery (Younghyun checked them all) so he just finds an empty one, where he can watch the scrub nurses turnover the OR below for the next surgery. It’s a comfortable rhythm, and just about the only thing keeping him sane. Eventually this, too, becomes unbearable, and Younghyun leaves with half a mind to check every OR until he can get an update. 

He doesn’t have to go far, though, because he sees Wonpil as soon as he rounds the corner.

“How is he? Is he still in there?” Wonpil’s eyes widen at Younghyun’s sudden questions, and then he stills. Younghyun’s heart drops down to his toes.

“I was just coming to find you,” Wonpil starts, and that’s when Younghyun knows. Wonpil takes a shaky breath and Younghyun bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. “Jae seized in the ER and we lost his pulse. We took him up as soon as we could but the tumor—it caused too much damage. There was nothing we could do. There was nothing we could do.” Wonpil’s voice cracks when he repeats the words, but Younghyun’s stopped listening. The world around him turns to static, and he can’t feel the wall pressing against his back when he slides down it. He’s at eye level with Wonpil’s hands, can see him clutching a scrub cap in his hands, powder blue against a blood stained background. Younghyun knows this feeling is one he’ll never forget.

+

Younghyun can’t break a promise to Jae. It was too painful, in that life, but he’s given another chance. With everything they shared in the hospital as fresh in his mind as if it happened yesterday, Younghyun grows up holding that promise close to his heart. He learns the guitar first (and only cries the first few times his fingers brush the strings, a wave of memory and emotion washing over him). After that, the bass guitar comes easily, and the keyboard is a natural addition too. Singing is a little more difficult, takes a little more time for him to get used to after years of refusal, the memory of singing with Jae being too painful. Eventually though, he does that too. 

Music takes over his life, and for good reason. Music is how Younghyun met Jae for the very first time, and now he can’t help but cling to the idea that it will bring them back together. He starts playing in middle school and never stops, and music follows him from Korea to Canada and back. Music helps to fill the gap left by Jae, helps to pass the time while Younghyun waits. 

He’s in one of JYP’s many practice rooms, acoustic guitar resting on his thigh when they tell him their team is about to gain another member. He’s older, Younghyun’s told, and moved here from California. It’s too much to hope, considering Jae in this life could be any age, and from anywhere, but Younghyun has a feeling.

Any one of millions of people could have walked through that door, but a weight lifts from Younghyun’s chest when he sees him emerge from behind their manager. It could be no one else. Jae’s hair is brown now, short and styled up to show off his handsome face and he’s wearing thick glasses even bigger than the ones he had on when they met for the very first time, but Younghyun doesn’t even care what he looks like now because it’s _him_. 

Jae’s smile is one of nervousness, and warmth spreads through Younghyun’s chest at the familiar sight (cheeks scrunched up, blinking rapidly, leg bouncing to a beat only he knows). He introduces himself in faltering Korean, and Younghyun has to stop himself from mouthing “Park Jaehyung” along with him. He’s giddy with excitement, eyes glued on Jae as the others introduce themselves. He’s the last to go, and has to take a deep breath to calm his heart.

“I’m Younghyun,” he says, extending a hand. Jae tries to repeat it and fails, tongue tangling over the syllables. Younghyun smiles. “I speak English,” he says, slipping easily back into the language and relishing at the feeling he gets when a genuine smile spreads across Jae’s face. “I used to live in Toronto, you can call me Brian if you want.”

“Brian,” Jae repeats, and Younghyun—no, Brian—thinks that he’s never liked the name more than when it’s rolling off Jae’s tongue. It’s fitting, he thinks. This life is the one, he’s sure. This life is the one he’s going to get to spend with Jae, and it feels right to take a new name—a fresh start.

Jae doesn’t know him yet, but he will. Finally, Brian feels his soul resting easily again. 

+

_Step, crack, blood._

_Are you okay?_

_Yeah. What took you so long?_

_I’m sorry. I’m here now._

_I know. Let’s take a walk._

_Okay._

_Okay._

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/bribeombot) or [tumblr](https://antijosh.tumblr.com)


End file.
